


Haven't You Noticed?

by ketchup



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Co-workers, Eavesdropping, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, Teen Romance, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 04:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4905886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ketchup/pseuds/ketchup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had definitely, totally, absolutely not been eavesdropping.</p><p>(He had definitely, totally, absolutely been eavesdropping.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haven't You Noticed?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a submission for a Larsadie Ficlet Challenge over at http://ficletaweekpc.tumblr.com/
> 
> The prompt was: "Write about a time when Lars heard Sadie sing."
> 
> I've barely edited or reread this before posting it, sorry. It's largely fueled by a quadruple shot latte and no sleep, so I'm hoping it's funny enough to have been worth the caffeine rush. Hrghrgh. 
> 
> Comments and critiques are always welcome!

Working at the Big Donut was either hectic or so boring that the only way to survive is to be inventive about fucking around. Classic time killers like stacking paper cups and making rubber band balls only went so far after the fourth consecutive summer at the shop. One of the most effective ways to pass time was to wait for tourists to pass by the floor to ceiling windows, and then do voice-overs for their narration and dialogue. It never seemed to wear thin the way that, say, mixing drinks from the soda fountain and trying to make the most delicious and disgusting combinations.

After the morning rush, Lars had spent an hour leaning against the counter. Only his eyes had moved, as they roved over the tags in front of the trays of donuts, trying to come up with hilarious new names for them. It was awful. There were only so many times he could use a China marker to write a “B” in the front of the label for glazed donuts before it stopped being funny. In fact, it had stopped being funny two years ago, but he still did it just to get a reaction out of customers. Sometimes that was worth it.

“Sadie, what about Sinnamon Coffee Cake? Or Crapple Walnutz? Or…” Lars trailed off mid shitpost thought and realized that Sadie had wandered off to be productive. The back room’s inventory needed to be sorted and rotated at least every other day, or so she claimed. If Lars was scheduled to work for a full week without her, odds were good that all of the donuts in the shop would turn so stale that he could label them as bagels and charge double for them.

Lars blew a raspberry and sauntered down the dimly lit back hallway and made his way to the break room-slash-storage room. As he lifted his fist to knock on the door, though, he froze and leaned in to be sure he was hearing what he thought he was hearing. 

There was a boom box in the break room that had to be twice as old as Steven, which Sadie tended to listen to while she was busy securing her title as Employee of the Month every month. Well, not every month, because every third month or so Lars would have to pose for a Polaroid while Sadie begged him to smile. She had to have been writing to Big Donut Corp on his behalf, because Lars had no illusions of respectability when it came to his job. He punched in, he threw donuts into bags, he usually gave customers the correct change, and he had dubbed himself Trash King. Taking shit out to the dumpster to save Sadie from the task was his only claim to pride most days. Sadie had made him a little crown out of an old Big Donut paper bag and some stickers that they had under the counter to keep toddlers from pitching tantrums. If he fell asleep at the counter, she would place it on his head, gentler than sea foam, and he’d wake up to squawk about it, much to her amusement. 

Anyway, the boom box. Sadie had taste in music that wasn’t so much not his liking as much as it was like puke coming straight out of the speakers. At least, that’s what he’d say if she left the break room door open and a customer remarked on the chipper beats and repetitive choruses that would spew the word “baby” at least three times. Lars would stick out his tongue, make a gagging noise, anything to prove that he had Good Taste in Music and Did Not Enjoy Pop.

If he was being honest with himself, Lars didn’t mind it. He appreciated that Sadie liked the music, because it was the rare thing that could cheer her up during long shifts. A catchy song could get Sadie working at a pace that got them out of work early, or that helped her overlook him ignoring the coffee pots for an extra hour. 

However, Lars was rarely honest with anyone, least of all himself, so when he heard 120bpm and synth drums, he grimaced and almost turned around. If someone came in and saw him hesitating, listening to the music, they might think he liked it, and then they might think he was a dweeb. He was a dweeb, but that wasn’t the point. NO ONE COULD KNOW.

Mid-turn, he froze and strained his ears again. It was just barely audible over the sound of cardboard boxes being shuffled around, and the humming of the florescent lights overhead, but he could make it 

Sadie was singing along with the radio. 

It became impossible to stop himself. Lars spared one last glare at the door, daring someone to arrive at that very moment, then leaned in and pressed his ear to the cold, metal door. He fought to control his breathing and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to stare at the side of the wrinkled CHOKING EMERGENCY sign. From how she hesitated during verses, he figured that this song was one she didn’t know very well. Then, after a brief interruption from the DJ, a new song started up and Lars had to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep from gasping aloud. 

Sadie could sing. Sadie could sing really well. She sounded so at ease with herself, confidently sliding up and down scales, even tacking on some vibrato where the original singer had left an opportunity for it. It sounded like she was even better than the pop star who so many people could easily see as beautiful and talented, but Lars had never heard anything about Sadie singing in public. She hadn’t been in the chorus or musical theater clubs in high school. On the rare occasion in which they rode around with Jenny in the Pizzamobile, Sadie never sang along with the radio. Sometimes she hummed, or tapped her fingers on the arm rest, but she’d never actually sang. 

By the song’s closing refrain, Lars nearly slapped himself in the forehead. Sadie must not think she was good at singing. Maybe someone had picked on her for it, or she just didn’t have confidence in herself. Lars understood that, but as he continued to listen in, he realized how much it sucked that Sadie didn’t believe in herself. Even if she was a terrible singer whose voice was the auditory equivalent of wet farting into a vuvuzela, she clearly loved music and singing. She should be able to enjoy that freely.

He began debating how he’d find ways to bolster Sadie’s confidence. He thought of of all the kind things he’d say to her, how he’d maybe try to sing around her sometime soon to coax her into joining in. On their next outing with the Cool Kids, he’d sweat through both of his shirts as he waited for this song to come on the radio, and then look over to check if Sadie would sing along. He’d wait for the little smirk that was more honest than the beaming smile she gave to customers, for the tiny dimple in her left cheek to really show. Just as he was considering learning the lyrics to the song, the break room door swung open. 

Lars toppled forward and into the break room, narrowly missing Sadie as she stood there with her arms laden with a long box of Super Puff Big Croissanuts (Now With Even MORE Puff and Glaze).

“Oh gosh, Lars! Are you okay??” She sounded horrified, and dropped the box on the floor in her haste to waffle between helping Lars up and slapping the radio into silence. She settled for turning off the radio.

It took what felt like the longest twenty seconds of his life for Lars to pull himself out of the pile of broken down cardboard that Sadie had left on the floor. His sneakers kept slipping on stray napkins and straws, and then some sugar packets. When he finally got to his feet, there were sprinkles in the fluff of hair on his head, crumbs on his shirt, and he was so nervous that he couldn’t even spit out a sentence about how he had definitely, totally, absolutely not been eavesdropping. 

Sadie snorted on a tiny laugh and reached over to pat the crumbs off his shirt. Lars stopped breathing for the entire time, and really, honestly, tried to scowl. He barely managed to huff, and when he did, it only brought the smirk and the dimple to Sadie’s face, so it just made him blush and clamp his mouth shut. 

“If you’re done sweeping the floor with your hair, could you take these out to the front?” Sadie crouched down, then offered him the oversized box of Croissanuts. She bit her lip and curbstomped any lingering desire to giggle.

Lars made a disgusted noise and took the box. “Yeah, fine. I just came back here to make sure you were still alive. That music you listen to is so bad it could kill.”

Sadie’s smile faded. She rolled her eyes and gathered up the boxes that Lars had tripped over. “Okay, sure. Whatever. Thanks for deigning yourself to pastry-carrying-duty, Your Majesty.”

It was too late to backpedal, but Lars stumbled over his words and tried to anyway. “Double whatever to you, jeeze.” He pointed at her viciously and scowled. “Don’t take those to the dumpster. That’s an official Trash King burden. No peasants are allowed to handle trash in this kingdom.”

“Let’s trade, then.” Sadie put the boxes down and held out her arms. “The Pastry Peasant awaits your command, my Litter Liege.”

Lars returned the crisp white pastry box to Sadie, then saluted her as he retrieved the trash from the floor. It brought just enough of a smile back to her face that he sighed when she left to return to the register area. Even if she didn’t smirk again, and he didn’t get to see her left cheek dimple, at least she wasn’t mad or really embarrassed.

The back alley was dim and smelly as usual. When Lars tossed the armload of collapsed boxes into the dumpster, he grunted from the effort of the motion and from enduring the stink of the trash that had been ripening in the summer heat. He glanced around to make sure Steven wasn’t going to barrel up to him to demand a high five, then retrieved his phone from his back pocket. The screen lit up and asked for his password, which he typed in as he slunk over to the wall and leaned against it, hiding behind the side of the dumpster. If she didn’t go back to doing inventory, there would be at least fifteen minutes before Sadie got bored enough to look for him. 

Until then, Lars searched for the song she’d been singing, and mouthed along with it as it played from his phone’s speakers on the lowest volume setting.


End file.
